Somewhere Else

Chapter 24: Freak

There was never a time that he got an assignment from any active Brecker. The man was a genius, pulling together what he did, but he was still nothing more than a man. In this life he had plenty to lose. The part of his brain that drove him to accumulate the lives that he had under him, that forced him to seek out all six people for the past five years, and the part of him that knew if he didn’t accomplish his goal in the next few weeks was a man of desperation. That was a man who had Gideon on his tail everywhere he went. If such a creature could have a sexual orientation, they would most certainly look like life partners who couldn't bear the thought of being apart for longer than ten minutes at a time. Unfortunately for Brecker, and not because Gideon was easy on the eyes, he was simply a beacon of despair, guiding him towards a life of darkness where his faith wouldn’t help him out in the least.

Freak had met Gideon only once. The man wasn’t ever there for him. He was there only for Brecker; the only sign he ever had that danger was near. In fact, regardless of orientation and lack of emotion altogether, Gideon was courting Fate. They went together hand in hand. People like Brecker knew Fate could be easily persuaded though. Most others felt she was the end all of everything. It was a good thing those two worked together. If they were enemies, they’d all be dead by now.

When an inactive Brecker approached him, he knew he was going on a mission. They met in a dark alley because that was the only home that Freak knew. He’d been sitting by the dumpster, rummaging around the boxes trying to find a smooth, clean surface. He had to settle for one that looked only slightly damaged. Brecker approached just as he’d scraped his powder into a fine line. The hollow needle had also been withdrawn and he was turning it slowly between the pads of his fingers when the figure loomed over him. He was afraid of cops. Brecker and Oskar despised them he knew, but he was indifferent. No one was going to stop him now.

“Freak.”

“A minute.” Lowering himself to the trail of happiness, he remembered the instructions he received the very first time he engaged in such illegal activities. ‘Breathe deep’. Any time he took the drugs he breathed deep, and continued to for some hours after. When the powder was absorbed into his system, he could fly. That’s all he really wanted. There was a very special place, a realm all his own where he sprouted large feathery wings and simply soared from here to the bottoms of the Heavens and the tippity-tops of Hell. In reality, where he sat now, he was just in the middle of a grimy street waiting to see if anyone could really save him.

“I need you to do me a favor.”

Packing up his needle and brushing the top of his hand against his nose, he stood up and tried to focus on this man, his fearless leader, but only got as close as looking in the general vicinity of his face. “Anything not related to what you just saw.”

There had been those along the way that doubted him. They doubted he could do any of what he said he could, knowing that he did drugs. They doubted he could perform the tasks assigned to him, that his hands might become too jittery. What they didn’t understand was the weight that he carried with him every day. He’d seen horrible things, events and injustices that would break an average man. Truth be told, he had been just an average man before he was awaken. Now he was something far worse than that. His views on right and wrong were so skewed that if he believed in an actual Heaven and Hell, he’d be Satan’s bitch when he died.

Luckily for him his only Hell was already being lived. The prospect of being stuck in one life for the rest of his existence and then perishing without a trace, like those nonbelievers, was enough to keep him grounded and to work with the utmost precision. He didn’t want to not exist. He didn’t want to be nothing more than energy in a world he didn’t care about, bouncing around alleyways like this one.

“I need you in Kray’s apartment. I need a weakness.”

Freak knew how much Brecker cared about the man. He couldn’t see why. There were a few of them that were angry at this Nicholas Kray for not stepping up and doing what was expected of him. He was doing his share. Lucky was pulling his weight and he was the youngest of them all. Honestly, learning that he couldn’t die was harder than discovering he could pass through realms. Hell, the boy wanted to be able to move around when he found out almost everyone else could. Yet Kray held out on them. He was not pleased.

Glancing around, as though it was indeed a drug trade taking place, he grabbed the pale wrist of the man that towered over him and pressed to his palm a copper key. “Don’t lose this.” The spare that he’d found one night when he spent the night was promptly taken to have a copy made. If Kray found out he’d left the apartment without actually locking the door, he imagined he’d be in a great deal of trouble. He’d made the copy, returned the spare, and locked the door behind him. He’d accidentally locked the deadbolt too, which couldn’t be done without a key and only remembered his fault halfway home. He had to return and unlock the deadbolt so that he wouldn’t grow suspicious of him.

“How long do I have?”

“Just a few hours. If he comes home and you’re in there, he’s going to find you.”

“I don’t leave traces behind Brecker. I don’t move like you do.”

He squinted for a second, not quite understanding what he was saying. “So long as you don’t get caught.”

“Trust me, he won’t.” This was the best revenge he could ask for, getting to go through the cop’s personal effects. Brecker had to know somewhere in him that he moved differently than the rest. Anyone else could have gone in and rummaged through his stuff and come up with the same information that Brecker sought. Anyone except for him of course. That would breech the boyfriend trust or something equally stupid. Before he could doubt him further, question his ability to fulfill his request after the load he snorted, he headed off to the apartment. He knew where Kray lived; he’d been keeping tabs on him for a year now.


Sliding the key into the deadbolt he knew right away it’d been the cop that left the house last this morning. That worked well for him because it meant everything that lingered inside would be fresh from him. The walls would have soaked up his words, the furniture his emotions, and everything else would speak to him as well. The drugs cleared his mind and he felt almost as though he was floating. Sometimes he swore he was outside his body watching the way he moved. Graceful as ever and always with purpose. Even right here at the door there were scenes that flashed through his mind, not unlike the way Brecker was able to read into a person, played out like movies against flat surfaces.

As soon as he stepped into the apartment he felt as though he might have as well stepped into another world. He closed the door behind him and with one hand still upon the knob he closed his eyes and leaned back, taking in all that he could gather. Just as he expected, he could see the way Kray and Brecker stood right here, the nights that they spoke and greeted each other. The hallucinations were as real as ever, aside from being transparent.

The images of the men remained right where they’d been for a moment as two more appeared, over at the counter in the kitchen. Their words were easily heard as if it was happening at that moment and not some weeks ago but none of it was relevant right now. He kept an ear out for certain words though, certain clues that Kray had any idea what was going on, anything that gave away a weakness of his.

Two more appeared in the living room: Brecker on the couch and Kray on the floor. As he watched them, the two at the door walked away and disappeared. That memory had ended and nothing more of it would be offered. Kray sat with a tablet in his lap, paperwork that he was filling out as they spoke. Freak moved over to stand behind him, read over his shoulder. There was nothing of interest there either. After a few moments, the room filled with clones of Krays and Breckers. In the end, when the memories cut off, they always either retreated to the bedroom or to the front door.

Those were images that could easily be given up. Now he was trying to find those that seemed as though they wanted to be hidden. Since he knew what he was looking for, understood the man he was stalking, he knew that even if nothing appeared for a moment or two, he’d eventually see what he’d come for. Five, seven minutes of nothingness appeared. Of course by nothing he simply didn’t see anything useful. There were plenty of transparent Krays moving around the apartment doing normal, day-to-day activity.

The man had such a routine that it was one after another in almost the exact same path, doing the exact same thing, right up until they each left for work. He could see the deadbolt turning at just the same speed every single time. When all of them exited the apartment, he was left with precisely what he’d been after. Kray sat in front of the couch, his hands pressed to his eyes, leaning back as he thought. Such thoughts couldn’t be picked up, much to his dismay, but when his lips moved and he spoke aloud as though someone were listening, he could hear perfectly what the man was saying. Even before entering the bedroom, he knew what his weakness was.

There was a rather sadistic smile painted over his lips as he closed the bedroom door behind him. Try as he might, he couldn’t seem to erase from sight the images that the bedroom had to offer. Perhaps that was Kray’s revenge for being where he shouldn’t be in the first place. Trying to avoid seeing any part of either man in their most intimate moments, he was set back quite a few minutes, left disorientated from shifting his sight anywhere but the bed…and the wall. Finally he could push free of his stance, guarded and shielded all at the same time, and he went for the only place a man like Kray would dare keep his personal items.

If he were smarter, he’d hide them somewhere other than the closet. He was just a man though. The small box was kept well out of sight, but he visited it at least once since it’d been put up and that was all he needed. To keep himself busy while he waited for the transparent Kray to show him where it was hidden, he touched against all of his clothes. He could see where he went, who he visited, and even more memories sprouted from that. If he didn’t slow down, he’d soon be overwhelmed and would be useless.

Finally he appeared. This was a man unlike any other that he’d seen. The same man he’d been watching for years, so cold and calculated, the sort that looked as though he himself were perfectly capable of committing a crime and never being caught because he was that particular about details was now a mess, hardly able to put the box back where it belonged. This was not a sight he wanted to see of someone who was supposed to be saving his life. The whites of his eyes were more red than not and drew away from the icy blue that everyone had grown so accustomed to over the years.

The memory was short, one he didn’t like to share obviously. Freak could understand why. Turning in the closet, he reached up high on one shelf and pushed aside the luggage that was rarely ever used. The small bag in the back was withdrawn from the shelf. Inside of it was a shoebox. He took that out and sat down on the floor. Inside were some of the world’s best treasures.

He spent at least an hour going through the pictures of this woman. He knew who she was as well, because he’d seen her in his other lives. The stalking was hardly contained to this one alone. There were very few pictures but each of them held such a boundless amount of memories that they were hard to get through in any decent amount of time.

When he was through, he was certain to replace everything perfectly. The photos were replaced in order and the lid of the box was put on the same way it’d been removed. He then carefully pushed the box back into the bag. As he ensured it was as far back as possible before zipping it up once more, the tip of a finger grazed against something smooth, something rolling around without restraint. The object offered only one memory but it was vivid and stronger than any other he’d had that day. Even if the memory was meant to be hidden, it was thought on enough that it was given to him with ease. He wished it hadn’t been.

As he went back through the apartment, he used just the memory of himself to trace his steps, a ghost showing him where he’d been and what he’d touched. He needed to see how everything had been when he first entered in order to guarantee nothing was out of place when Nick returned. If he aroused suspicion, Brecker would be put in the spotlight, and again their quest would be compromised.

With the key clutched in his palm, he walked down the street towards Brecker’s apartment. Anyone who stared at him was greeted with a very confident gaze, which often turned their heads. Despite his confident demeanor, he was shaking on the inside. At the door he rapped harder than he probably needed to, grew impatient in a matter of seconds, and all but thrust the key at his chest when the door opened.

Brecker was confused by the actions, wondering if maybe he’d been caught. Covering the back of his hand with his palm, he slid along until he felt the key under his own hand, pressed to his chest. Perhaps the drugs had taken a turn for the worst, causing Freak to become paranoid.

“What did you find?”

“Not what you were looking for. We already knew that Jessica was his weakness. You’ve got even bigger problems than that though Brecker.”

“More?”

“He’s a dangerous man. I hope you realize what you’ve gotten yourself into.”